


Their own brand of misery

by skyholdherbalist



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Bisexual Benny, Codependency, Gen, Murder, Other, Possibly Unrequited Love, Revenge, Revenge Sex, Sunset Sarsaparillas, crusty friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-11-18 14:27:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11292528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyholdherbalist/pseuds/skyholdherbalist
Summary: Drabbles about my Courier Six and her only friend Arcade Gannon.  Wrote these pieces 6 years ago at the height of my FNV obsession.  Decided to dust them off for fun.Six and Arcade meet in Freeside while she's gaining favor with the Garretts and the Kings to get more information on Benny.  She is possessed by the thought of revenge on Benny.  It's murderous, it consumes her.This is a rough, disgusting wasteland.  It kills.  It's lonely.  Arcade is terrified of it.  He's been retreating his whole life, hiding behind walls.  The hiding shames him.  So he joins the Courier.  He hasn't yet realized he's hiding behind her, too.It's so lonely.  That's what brought them together.  Her cowboy loneliness, his need to come to her aid.He trusts her.  He's been hurt so many times.  The Courier won't hurt him.  He won't hurt her.  They're the same, you see?  Both cowboys in their way.  The Courier wanders, quiet and intense, set upon her task.  Arcade is unsteady, but loyal.  He would do anything for her.  He will help her kill Benny.





	1. Chapter 1

The Courier's cracked leather armor groaned as she sat hard in the chair. A young King's performance drifted into the lobby, punctuated with barks and laughter. At least they weren't meeting the King—he can't pull himself away from that stage, though he never got on it. And she'd rather be in FISTO's fuck room than go upstairs with the King, though he was easy on the eyes. Under the radar was better. Stick with the underlings. They were easy to bribe. Easier to intimidate.

Arcade sat next to her and leaned close. "Who are we meeting here, again? I can't tell any of these guys apart." He scraped dirt from under his fingernails. Desert sunset through the window flamed his hair bright orange.  
  
She picked at a tear in the chair's seat, fluffing the foam that peeked out. "Some kid named Johnny. Or was it Lucky? Anyway, he knows who I am." She glanced at him. "Why bother, by the way? The nails. It's fucking filthy everywhere."

Arcade side-eyed her. "I'm a doctor?"

"You're a freak."

"You've never complained before. Oh, wait, that's right, you complain all the time." He took off his glasses, rubbed his nose. "Sorry, must have been thinking of someone else. Probably someone dead. Someone who can't bitch anymore." He laughed, wiping his lenses on one of the less soiled patches of his shirt. "Although strangely, you've somehow found a way to come back from the dead to bitch once more! It's a miracle."

She stared straight ahead, poker-faced. Not worth getting into it with him now. Got to stay focused. Almost there.

They'd come to the Kings for information. One last, little thing. Then she got to kill Benny.

"Hey, little Miss Six, it's me, Lucky," the young King drawled. So practiced, it was almost endearing. He stood before her, hands in tight jean pockets and shoulders slumped forward, his best impression of a rebellious teen from the old holotapes, and beckoned her over to a back room. She and Arcade followed.

The King led them into a bright room, empty but for a pool table, scattered, broken chairs, and a faded jukebox. He shut the door behind them, leaned against it, and started to talk, but cut himself short. "Is he cool?" he asked, pointing to Arcade.

"No, but talk anyway." She stood in front of him and folded her arms. Arcade jumped to sit on the pool table, rolling away an eight ball from a carefully arranged rack.

Lucky glanced at him, annoyed, but continued. "So we already got you a way into the Strip, right? And you need to know what to do once you get in the Tops. Well, once you're in there, honey, it's all honey." She heard Arcade scoff. He hated the Kings, she knew, but he hated almost everyone in Freeside, maybe almost everyone in New Vegas. Not her, though.

"You just talk to that fella up front called Swank." He ran a hand through his slick, black hair. "You got a few options with him. You can get rough with him, but that ain't the best way. You can level with him, but he might not care. You can tell him you've got dirt on Benny, that'll get his ears perked. Or you can sweet talk him. Now that I know you can do, darlin'," he said with a sly smile.

Her expression hadn't changed, resolute. "Thank you. When should I go?"

"I'd go in the morning. A lot going on in the Tops most nights, though mornings ain't quiet. But it'll be easier to get to Benny. Less bodyguards in the AM. He ain't left in weeks, anyway."

"Have you been to the Tops yourself?" Arcade asked, not looking up, spinning pool balls across the grimy felt. "What's the layout like?"

Lucky looked at Six as he answered. "Yeah, I get over there sometimes. It's pretty wide open. A few corners to hide in. Elevators to the suites in the back. Buncha sad drunks tossing money away. Your typical casino, buddy," he finished, turning toward Arcade.

She took it all in, mentally mapping, though it was hard to focus. Blood thundered behind her eyes. She needed to relax, play it cool, but she'd waited a long time for this.

So she swept aside all the blood in her mind and sweetly said, "Thanks, Lucky. You know I appreciate it," smiling at the kid.

He actually blushed. "Aw, nothin' at all, Miss Six, you just come see me sometime after all your killing's done." He jammed his hands in his pockets and walked out, whistling.

Arcade watched him go, incredulous. "Okay, what exactly did you do to get all that? Do I want to know?"

She reached into his lab coat pocket for the Sunset Sarsparilla she knew he'd been saving. "I got him a new pair of shoes." She opened it, stashed the cap, and took a long drink, almost happy.

***

When they got back to their room at the Atomic Wrangler, she yanked off her boots, swept aside some Freeside concrete dust, and fell backward onto the bed. Arcade sat beside her and pulled a flask from an inside pocket. He took a quick drink, grimaced, and offered it to her. She reached for it eagerly.

They both needed sleep, she knew, and even though the bed was stiff and rank from the Wrangler's usual clients, it was big enough to share. She always insisted on sharing beds. Cheaper that way. Easier to keep an eye on your shit. Didn't trust Arcade not to get ripped off while he's snoring. She said that kind of thing. She knew the real reason, though: she didn't want to be alone. And she knew he didn't, either.

She rolled off the bed and stripped down to grimy underwear. "Gotta get some sleep. I think we should get there pretty early tomorrow."

Arcade sighed. "Okay, I'm sure you don't want to talk about it, but aren't you feeling kind of crazy right now?" He stood and started to remove his own clothes. They'd lost all shyness by now. Kicked around the Wastes for a few hard months. Felt like years.

"Crazy?"

"I mean that you're going to finish things tomorrow. Time for reflection? Maybe?"

She got into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. "Fuck no. I can't think about anything until tomorrow." A lie. She didn't want to think about that, or much else. But thoughts rattled like rocks in her broken skull, heavy and sharp. She thought about this whole fucking plan, whether it would be worth it in the end. She thought about Arcade, how he'd stuck by her for basically no reason, but still she wondered why. And why she was scared he'd stop sticking around. She thought about how sometimes she wished she'd never been pulled out of her grave.

Arcade flipped off the lights and climbed in beside her, groaning a little. "Do you really think I haven't figured out yet that you're a poor liar?" He turned on his side to face her in the dark. "You're so tense you're shaking the bed."

She stayed silent, gripping the edge of the sheets. Her eyes darted everywhere in the dark room. "I don't know. You reflect for me."

He was quiet for minute. "Aside from the obvious fact that you're intensely nervous, I think you're horrified you won't know what to do once it's over. You're having an existential dilemma. It can be very painful. Trust me, I know," he muttered, and rolled onto his back, crossing his arms.

"Existential?" The word felt mushy in her mouth.

"This whole Benny thing, it's been your raison d'etre since you were shot. I mean, the reason you keep going, get up in the morning. Once you get your revenge, what will you do? What could possibly motivate you as much or more than your bloodthirsty rage?"

She released the crumpled sheets from her fists and covered her eyes with her palms, sighing. "I don't fucking know. I guess I thought I'd figure that out after." Somewhere in the hall a man hummed a tune, interrupted by a hacking cough. "What about you?"

"What about me? This is your gambit, not mine. Although I'm ready to assist in my own limited way."

"Do you know what you'll do after we do this? Since you're reflecting."

"Hmmm." He laughed. "I never thought about it."

"Are you kidding?"

"Nope. I guess I thought I'd follow you to the ends of the earth."

Now she laughed. "Why the hell would you do that? Why are you even doing it now?" She turned on her side away from him, suddenly aware she may have said too much.

"Oh, you know. Existential dilemma."

People stomped and danced and fucked in the rooms above, a strange lullaby.


	2. Chapter 2

"You are one spooky chick," Benny mumbled, looking her up and down. "That's okay, I like that." He placed his hands on her shoulders, squeezing gently, looking sidelong at her. She played along, giving him the eyes, then glancing back down shyly. She thought he'd like that, and he did, chuckling as he rubbed his hands down her arms, then hooked an arm around her waist. She told herself she was playing along, but the hands felt good. The look felt good, giving it and getting it back. His breath in her ear felt good, as he nuzzled her, sniffing her skin. His lips against her earlobe, he whispered, "What about your friend over there?"

He was looking at Arcade, and, craning her neck backward, she saw Arcade was looking back, brow furrowed. She knew that look — she'd seen it a hundred times on the road when they were hungry, or tired, or fighting. Unpleasant thoughts were occurring to Arcade, and he didn't like having unpleasant thoughts. Arcade wanted to be a smoothly paved road in a world of potholes. It was one of the reasons she loved him. But as much as she appreciated the smooth exterior, sometimes she wanted to take a jackhammer to him. This was one of those times.

Because there was something else she saw in him — jealousy. A small, sharp meanness and yearning had crept into his syes. And then came the jackhammer.

He knew the plan, had known for months, had come this far, had been everything she needed, to suddenly act the spurned lover? That wasn't part of the play she was putting on. Jealous now, after all the times, impossibly, it would have meant something to her. All these things she felt in an instant as she and Benny and Arcade looked at each other. She flipped the switch.

"Let him watch. Maybe he'll get off on it." She snaked her arms inside Benny's checkered coat, the satin lining warm and slick.

Benny, chin rested on her head, mumbled, "He's pretty," and drew down to her ear. "Think he'd like to play, too?"

She pulled back to look at him, hoping the shock on her face erased itself before he noticed. No worry, he was still looking at Arcade. And then it hit her, like centaur shit: maybe it wasn't Benny Arcade was jealous of. It was easy to forget. Especially if you wanted to. One more reason to jackhammer tonight.

So she gave a mean little snicker. "You'd have to ask him yourself, honey."

He let go of her, gliding across the casino floor to where Arcade stood, drunken gamblers teetering on stools behind him, his arms folded tight in that dusty lab coat. As Benny came near him he looked down, away, not at Benny, not at her. She was certain he wouldn't even let Benny finish the proposition, stalk off to wait for her outside. Certain until he locked eyes with Benny, those expectant eyes turned upward and glistening. What the fuck was Benny telling him? They didn't touch. Arcade shifted nervously and looked over at her. Her eyes pleaded with him, but she wasn't sure what she was pleading for. Arcade mumbled something to Benny, still furrowed. Her stomach dropped as Benny turned back and walked to her, wearing a lecherous grin, and Arcade followed.

This was not the plan. This was not the fucking plan.

It's embarrassing to be out of your depth, worse when you're supposed to be a legendary badass. Still worse when you're a woman losing control to a man, a fear you meant to drain from your system long ago. But instead of giving into the hot embarassment and fear, she went cold. The wasteland had wrung nearly everything from her, but it had given her something, too: steely detachment when things got too rough. The jackhammer fell to the ground, and she let the momentum take her.

* * *

Benny's suite was on the 13th floor of the casino. Guess no one reminded Mr. House that in the old days they didn't have 13th floors — unlucky. He didn't seem the type to believe in luck, but among wastelanders luck was golden, traded like currency, exchanged and received. Wasn't just spook stories like the tribals traded, but real and had consequences. Here in this elevator, she couldn't figure the sort that was playing itself out. But what luck.

Arcade stood at her shoulder as they slowly rode up. The Followers, she was sure, had thrown luck out, too. Maybe the reason they were so boring.

He stared at her, as he often did, but she couldn't puzzle out his look. Guilt, eagerness, confusion, some condolences. She wanted to remind him that they'd make it out of this alive, but "after this" was a place she couldn't quite picture yet.


End file.
